Dad’s been moved off ICU and has his own room. I’ve got the room number in a message from Carrie. I still don’t know for sure if I will call before he’s discharged, but I’m leaning hard towards “no.” Doug seems willing to give me updates and once in a while, Carrie does too. I’m good. If Dad had a track record of not being a dick about my shortcomings, it would be one thing, but nah. He doesn’t get to lecture me about anything after scaring me like that. Besides, I’m such a bad kid I might drive him straight back to drinking…
…And that’s another thing. There’s a strong possibility he’ll go home soon. He will go straight back to the bottle, and to lying to everyone about it. Bet me.
It’s weird, because in general I don’t mind people drinking. I suppose it depends on the person and what sort of drunk they are, and if they drink too much then I might worry about their health but in this particular case, his drinking and Reba’s drinking were instrumental in my childhood misery. So while I don’t give him shit about it, yeah, I realize I’m judgmental. I also understand how hard it is to quit something like that (I mean, look at me and carbs), but it being difficult for him to quit doesn’t make it any easier for me to deal with it.
Although, come to think of it, he’s meaner when he hasn’t been.
And come to think of that, my choosing not to call him is probably wise, then.
Moving on now.
Okay. Tomorrow. 10am. We’ll see what we will see. I need to check the trip duration so I know what to set my alarm for, but at least I showered already. OMG! An evening shower! I can’t remember the last time I did that. I’d been avoiding them here because the idea of taking a shower in that dark bathroom gives me the creeps. Lost count of how many times I’ve found spiders in there. AND YET, no light from outside gets in there when I’ve got the door closed, so it’s exactly as dark in the daytime as it is at night. Make it make sense. If my brain could make it make sense, though, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
I think I might finally be moving in the direction of going back more website-based. Kind of like it.
As to the other thing I vagueblogged about yesterday… Nah. I’ll keep going with it, and him. He can just be a pleasant distraction. I know it’ll never be anything else. At least in this case I know and I don’t have to wonder. Dawn wasn’t exactly right about that. Nor was I, with my original assumption about my motivation. I’m not being like this because it’s “safer,” or not only because of that. I’m being like this because for once I know what’s going on. No one’s lying to me; the man’s not even speaking to me. (He could. But he won’t.) Even with the not knowing his marital status, that’s in the public interest to know but it doesn’t mean you have to know in every single circumstance. He might be said to actually owe me that information if we knew one another in person and there were any chance whatsoever of dating — or, hell, just fucking. Other than that? Doesn’t matter. So I knew exactly the amount of info I needed to know about him. That’s nice, for a change. I wonder what that’s like with a man I actually know, but I doubt I’ll find out at this late date.
In other news, I think my brain is threatening creativity at me now. It is not unwelcome.
Okay. Bed. Big day tomorrow. Potentially.